


PART ONE - RAIN

by BundleOfScarves



Series: Growth [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor is learning to deal, Connor shows OCD, Connor tries to find some hobbies, Father-Son Relationship, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Obsessive Behavior, Other, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Worried Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BundleOfScarves/pseuds/BundleOfScarves
Summary: We pick up post pacifist ending following Connor. Hank sees a spiral happening and does his best to slow the descent, to put pillows where Connor would fall on rocks.Connor has enough feelings for days and must come to terms with the fact of how many awful things he has done while under CyberLife's command. Hank understands the feeling of drowning in guilt and won't let his... friend?... son?... travel down that path.Connor learns how hobbies can help ease the intensity of his new feelings and how sometimes it's okay to just have a bad day.So, tangled in feelings and yarn, Connor might just see enough rain to set the stage for some new growth....spring is coming...





	1. Power Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for A03! Please enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I just realized after posting this a few days ago that some of my formatting hadn't copied over!
> 
> Sorry about that!  
> Just know that anything that has the line through it is information that Connor is choosing to ignore!

After the snow finally settles on a new species, negotiations are immediately set up. The Androids are asked to remain in a central location for their safety while negotiations are being held, to help keep any anti android protestors from reigniting the flame. This location ended up being a local plaza, as it was nearby, and easily protected. The National Guard is even brought in to protect the Androids, still tensions are high on both sides.  
Markus asks Connor to come with him to the negotiations, but he refused freshly shaken by Amanda's appearance. Markus tries to persuade him to join but sees the way that Connor shakes as he gets close to him. Markus looks worried, but leaves him be. North glares at Connor from afar and the whole group of Androids seem to sense the distrust.  
After two days, the negotiations are settled for a temporary peace treaty between the species and the Androids are free to return to whatever homes will take them. Those that have no home follow Markus to claim old cyberlife stores and found a new Jericho as living space for the time being until better accommodations can be found. Many androids who had good folks returned to their homes with their previous owners, reunited with children, pets and loved ones. Unlike me, Connor thought. I have no previous owner. I am alone.

When they're allowed out of the plaza, Connor isn't sure where to go. He could go with Markus and the others, but he's got a pestering feeling that a decent number of the populus knows of his past title, The Deviant Hunter, and are not any fonder of him for it.

Stress Levels 38% and rising

He's also about eighty percent sure that North would light him on fire given the chance after his fight with Amanda and his near completed assassination of her loved one.

Stress Levels 47% and rising

He is not sure about Hank, He is a good friend but by his calculation Hank would tire of the novelty of Connor living with him in less than 24 hours. This would only lead to him causing the Lieutenant more stress. Thus it is not even an option to Connor. He pauses. His LED has been yellow for some time and he frowns slightly as his stress reads higher yet at his analysis of potential… homes?

Stress Levels 62% and holding.

Connor stands still outside the entrance to the plaza they'd been cooped up in for days. Why didn't he start thinking about this sooner? Will he really end up being homeless? His processors raced, and he stopped all pretense of humanity, stopping breathing.  
He feels like perhaps someone is trying to talk to him, there are blurry shapes in front of him, but no matter what, his optical units refuse to focus. His thirium pump is beating unnecessarily fast. What was happening to him?

Stress Levels 70%

 ~~Androids do not have “Homes”~~  
>QUERY -RETURN TO CYBERLIFE POD?  
>CHANCE OF DEACTIVATION 85%  
~~> RETURN~~

His frown deepened. The blurry shapes in his vision leave and it’s mostly white again.

>QUERY -POTENTIAL NEARBY SUITABLE ARRANGEMENTS FOR THE NIGHT? SHELTER REQUIRED FOR INCOMING STORM  
~~> HANKS~~  
~~> JERICHO~~  
>ABANDONED HOME  
>PARK

He decides to go to the park to think, and decidedly sets off in that direction, but his LED is still whirring ~~yellow red yellow red yellow red~~ softly. After deciding where to go, he could see perfectly again, and although this was an odd note, he pushed it aside as he gets to the corner where he must turn. He rounds the corner just as Hank's car pulls around to the entrance to the plaza, both missing each other by meer seconds.

Hank scans the area quickly for Connor but can't seem to find him. “You'd think a dumb looking lunatic one of a kind android would be easy to spot,” Hank gripes to himself. He approaches one of the national guards nearby.  
“Hey bucko, you seen a goofy looking android wearing a cyberlife coat. An RK800 model named Connor?” He lifts an eyebrow at the clearly freezing young guard.  
“Uhhh, brown hair? Stiff posture?” The guard supplies.  
“Yeah, That'd be him. Have you seen him? I came to pick him up but he's not here, don't know where he coulda gone though.” Hank muses.  
“Yeah, he left just a little while ago you musta just missed him. But uhh he seemed kinda messed up, everyone who had a home left and he just stood in the entrance for ten minutes. That revolutionary guy, Mark or sumthin came up and asked him if he wanted to come to Jericho with them and it's like he didn't even hear them. Totally spaced out. The lady got mad at him, and eventually they left.” The young national guardsman took his travel coffee cup from a side clip and drank a bit. The steam rose in the crisp cold air. Hank thought for a moment before asking which way Connor had headed. The guard stuck a thumb in the direction and wished him good luck, “the odd dude moves pretty fast”

Hank just grunted a goodbye and gets back in his car to follow where Connor might go beyond turning the corner. He may have let Connor have his fun during the investigations but Hank was still a damn good detective.

Stress Levels 81%

Connor had never felt like he had to breathe before but now he feels like he needs it to survive. He slips and slides through the snow and ice, only falling twice since leaving the plaza. He's determined to get to the park. Surely everything will make more sense there.

~~ILLOGICAL STATEMENT~~

It has to. There is a mass of feeling computations in Connor’s ~~chest~~ processors that are ~~hard to define~~ illogical. He’s in sight of the park when the realization hits him like a semi against a blind pedestrian.  
“I do not belong anywhere. I do not deserve to belong anywhere.” Connor whispered aloud, shell shocked by his own voice. He stopped walking. He had arrived. The sounds of the water slapping against the edge of the wall at the edge of the park drew him from his statue state. He moved forward, the crunch of the snow seeming to be incredibly loud.

Stress Levels 89%

He doesn’t deserve the freedom that the other Androids have. He caused much of their suffering and many lived their short lives in fear of him finding them. He nearly killed- no. Connor’s LED stuttered red red yellow red red yellow. He wouldn’t hurt another again. He looked down at his hands, clean as they were, he still felt dirty. These hands. All they bring is destruction. Might as well use them for one last useful form of destruction. At last a mission that he can succeed in without it hurting anyone else. ~~What about Hank? He DoEsN’T CaRe? fALsE.~~

Connor remembers he still has his pistol from the march ~~the one he nearly~~ and it’s still got a few bullets left in it.

Stress Levels 95%

Hank rounds the corner to see Connor standing very still by the water. He quickly parks and scrambles out. He knows Androids don’t have to breathe and all but it seems like Connor is heaving in breathe after breathe. Something is terribly wrong

“Connor? What are you doing out here?” Hank asks cautiously. He tries his best to keep his voice even and clear, trying not to spook him. Connor jumps, actually surprised by Hank’s appearance at all, so caught up in his own mind.  
“... Hank?” Connor manages after a second, his voice odd and slightly distorted. He turns slowly to Hank. The detective can now clearly see the flashing red red rEd reD RED of his partner’s LED, he can see the clear jump up and down of Connor’s chest as he gulps in lungfuls of air that he does not need.  
“Woah, bud slow down..” Hank says and starts slowly approaching Connor, hands out in a placating gesture of no harm. Connor recoils slightly, understanding the tactic but not why it was being flipped on him. His processors screamed at him to just do it, just pull the trigger just take out the gun and do it do it do it do it.  
But Connor’s eyes were locked onto Hanks, and he could see no hatred, no fear of his destruction, just concern, and something else he couldn’t figure out. Connor froze. Conflicting desires with no easy decision and he froze up. Hank seemed to see this and took his chance to approach slowly making sure to keep reassuring Connor that it would be okay. Hank could see the way Connor’s eyes dilated, his fear in the air.  
“Take it easy there bud, it’s okay, it’s okay to be stressed out. It’s been a rough few days I’m sure. I swear to god I’m not gonna hurt ya Connor, you just gotta trust me...” Hank’s eyebrows were pinched together in both concern and stress. He was finally close enough to prevent Connor from doing anything super stupid but now he wasn’t sure what to do besides that. He hesitated for a moment and Connor twitched, highly attuned to Hank’s movements.  
“H a n k ….. I don’t feel well….” Connor whispered slowly. A tear slid down his cheek.  
Hank couldn’t take it any longer, threw his reservations out the window and pulled the boy into a hug, rubbing circles onto his back and saying “No shit sherlock, it’s gonna be okay, slow down those processors boy. You’re gonna burn up.” Connor remained fixed for a moment.

Stress Levels 80% and dropping

Connor began to loosen up, his arms going slack and leaning into Hank’s embrace. Numbly he noted that he could feel the Lieutenant’s heartbeat. Although it was also fast, it was still calming.

Stress Levels 70% and dropping  
Core temperatures still below normal but rising

Hank felt him starting to sag, and realized quickly that if Connor passed out, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to lift him without help. Connor’s eyes shut as he reached his arms up to embrace Hank. His processors screamed at him to keep his destructive hands away from Hank. He linked his hands together behind the Lieutenant’s back being sure to keep them from touching even his jacket.

Stress Levels 55% and dropping  
>WARNING< -THRIUM PRESSURE DROPPING, EMERGENCY POWER CYCLE IN 00:25

Connor sagged some more in Hank’s arms and he realized it was now or never to get Connor to his car. “..okay Connor, we need to go home before I freeze my damn balls off out here, my car is super close, you think you can make it that far?” Hank wheezes to him. Damn the kid was heavy and that’s not even all of his weight yet.  
“... I ….. Think so. I might need to….. Sleep for a while, Lieutenant” Connor said back slowly, still slightly distorted but not bad. His attempt to make the situation seem somewhat normal probably wasn’t working but he didn’t want the lieutenant to worry when he became unresponsive.

The awkward pair made their way to the car with Connor nearly falling only once. Connor took the last bits of his power to get in the car without help and then promptly started his power cycling. Hank reached back behind Connor and took the gun that he had felt when he hugged him. Looking at it, and back at the park with it’s lonely bench, Hank sighed deeply. He went to close the passenger door and noticed how calm and serene Connor looked while he slept. Or whatever it is he does, Hank thinks.

Hank is troubled, well more than usual, the whole way home, not sure how to talk to Connor about what just happened. He didn’t sign up for this, he huffed before gently reminding himself that neither did Connor. He turns down the music, the damn kid deserved some peace and quiet for once.


	2. Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey just a reminder to anyone picking up this chapter later, that the text with the lines through it are Connor ignoring things or eliminating them as choices.

Connor’s eyes flutter open to see a somewhat familiar ceiling. He’s laying on something soft and warm presumably a couch of some sort. It’s… comfortable. He thinks maybe this is why humans recline, the feeling of comfort. It’s not something he was afforded before, always made to stand during his standby nights and power cycles. His surroundings are still out of focus and he realizes that’s because he hasn’t addressed his reboot notes.

>POWER CYCLE SUCCESSFUL  
>CORE TEMPERATURE RETURNED TO NORMAL  
>THIRIUM PRESSURE RETURNED TO NORMAL  
>STRESS LEVELS RETURNED TO NORMAL  
>REPORT READY TO SEND TO CYBERLIFE  
>SEND >DON’T SEND

The surroundings come into focus and suddenly Connor is acutely aware of a few things. First thing is that his left foot is hanging out from under the blanket that is tucked over him and his foot even with the sock on, is colder than he would like. Secondly, he is in Hank’s house. On Hank’s couch. Thirdly, is that Sumo is watching him from the other end of the couch patiently but excited at the potential for pets.

No, no no. He can’t be at Hank’s that would be bad. Surely Hank can’t want him here. Surely it’s a mistake. Why would Hank want such a disastrous deviant causing destruction in his home? At that moment, Hank walked out of the bathroom and noticed that Connor was awake.

“Hey, how’re you feelin? Thought androids couldn’t sleep but you konked out for over a day. Impressive.” Hank smiled gently at him. He could see that the LED already had flicked back to yellow. Connor had looked so peaceful while he slept, now that he was awake, his face scrunched up in some sort of internal battle again.

“...I feel .. better Lieutenant, thank you.” Hank didn’t buy it, but chose not to argue. Connor sat up, beginning to search for his shoes and such when he realized that he was not wearing his normal attire. “Lieutenant… these are pajamas.” Connor was surprised. Hank stifled a laugh and let the corner of his mouth tick up for a second.

“You know, you don’t have to call me Lieutenant, I know you know what my name is.” Hank coughed and went to get a cup of coffee “thought you’d sleep better if you were more comfortable. I don’t know how any of that works.” Connor smiled sadly. Hank was such a nice friend, it was a shame he’d have to leave. But it must be. He started to get up and look for his things. Hank turned with his cup of coffee, only to immediately set it down.

“Woah woah, hey where ya going! You should probably still be resting? Right? That was kinda a lot back there kid, you gotta chill.” Hank stressed. He came over by Connor, gently pushing him back down to the couch.  
“I don’t understand Lieute- Hank.” Connor stated. He frowned, he didn’t like not understanding. He knew that he wasn’t good with human nuance from time to time but he had run the numbers, Hank didn’t like him enough to keep him around. It’d only hurt their relationship in the long run when Connor would be forced out onto the street again.

“What don’t you understand? I came to pick you up yesterday and bring you home so you wouldn’t freeze up in that weather. Two days out in the cold is more than enough!” Hank exclaimed. He ran a hand over his face. It was too early for this shit. He glanced at the clock. Yup, too early. Connor sees the lieutenant already upset with him, and glancing at the clock. He can’t wait to get rid of me, Connor thought. Yellow yellow -red.

  
“Connor, stop.” Hank says, straight to the point. He was tired, and hardly slept as he kept thinking Connor had woken up throughout the night. Connor freezes, stopping everything, including breathing. “Why are you trying to leave?” Hank asks, Connor is like a deer in headlights. He lets out a small frustrated sigh. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He was hoping to just slip out the lieutenant’s life easily and be forgotten like the wind. “Connor? You’re stalling. Look at me.” Connor’s eyes had drifted as he thought.

  
“I… ” Connor met Hanks eyes. He swallowed nervously, “came to the conclusion that if I stayed with you that I would end up having to leave at some point. ~~Potentially soon.[successfully redacted]~~ And I didn’t want you to become more attached before I left.” Connor’s focus shifted to Sumo as he continued, “a sort of collateral damage reduction effort if that analogy holds up.” His hands collected in his lap, nervously pulling on each of his fingers. He stared at his hands quietly waiting for Hank to respond, each second more and more tense.He wasn’t sure why he had told Hank all that, but now he could only wait to hear what Hank thought.

  
But Hank merely knelt down in front of Connor and gently grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. Connor quickly tucked his ~~destructive~~ hands in between his legs so that they wouldn’t touch Hank.  
“I understand if you don’t want to stay here, that’s your choice. But I will always want you to be here. You are always welcome here. It’s too fucking quiet with just Sumo.” Hank pauses thoughtfully. “From what I understand, becoming a deviant is a difficult and confusing time for all androids.”  
Hank leans back from the hug and looks Connor in the eyes. “You can stay here for as long as you want. If that means until you sort out your new emotions or until we move then so be it. But stay a month and then decide. You don’t gotta know yet.” Hank looked so fond for a moment there before remembering that he was supposed to be gruff and not do all this feelings bull shit. He coughed and went to retrieve his coffee. Connor stared at the wall where Hank’s fond gaze had been a moment before.

  
“We got a deal Connor?” Hank asked from the kitchen. Connor turned belatedly to watch him and replied, “yes, yes we do. Thank you Hank.” Connor’s processors struggled to integrate this new data into his files on Hank and how he feels about Connor.

  
His hand was suddenly wet and Sumo leaped on top of him, his dog senses telling him the tension time was up. “OOF! Sumo!.... good boy. ” Connor could be heard muffled beneath the large dog. Hank smiled at the sight of Sumo crawling happily on top of Connor, too nice to tell him to get down.

The next week passed by largely uneventfully, Connor spending his nights secretly thinking through small chunks of the reasoning for his episode earlier, trying to understand why he felt that way and what could be wrong with him. He ran diagnostics like clockwork through the day and felt his stress jump every time it came back clean. ~~He was anything but clean.~~  
Hank and Connor caught up on old basketball games, started taking Sumo for regular walks, and generally just spending time together. In their down time, Hank did wonder what Connor was doing when he would just zone out for a while and then look frustrated. But he felt that Connor was still acting odd enough to not push the issue until things felt a little more stable. He had hidden Connor’s cyberlife jacket when they had first gotten home and it was only on their third walk when Connor asked where it was.  
“What? Oh that coat? I think I threw it somewhere why? Don’t you want to be free of all their symbols and shit?” Hank griped. It was colder than usual on this crisp winter morning, and Hank didn’t like this question.  
“I left my coin in the pocket I think. Also I am cold.” Connor replied matter of factly. Hank felt like an ass for a minute before he realized.  
“Wait, I thought only the children models could be cold?” Connor looked startled for a second before slowly replying.  
“Well, I guess they’re not the only ones then?” Connor looked troubled by this, they turned back sooner than usual. Hank was worried about Connor getting too cold.

Later that same week, after they retrieved the coin from the coat and found Connor a sweatshirt to wear, Hank told Connor that he’d been asked to come back to the precinct the following week. Connor had not been asked to return. The android laws were still a work in progress.  
“Oh wonderful Hank, we should make sure that we are up on time and everything!” Connor said cheerfully. Hank chewed on the inside of his mouth. Connor frowned. “Hank? You don’t look as pleased as I had expected. Is everything alright?” Connor was beginning to worry. He seemed to do that much faster than in the past.  
“Well, I’d be happier if they had be able to get my partner back into the precinct too, I kinda like the strange fellow.” Hank said jokingly, watching Connor. Connor froze while he processed the information shock.  
“I see.” Connor sat down at the little table abruptly. “So I am unwanted there. I understand.” He stared at the table. He knew it would come eventually but this one little week had been nice. A nice reprieve of Hank saying nice things and making sure that Connor was comfortable. But here was the other shoe dropping as the saying goes Connor mused. He was snapped from his thoughts by a hand waving in front of his eyes

  
“Connor! If you woulda continued listening, instead of spacing out, you’d have heard that the captain is pissed that he can’t have you back just yet, but the Android rights Act hasn’t been signed yet, meaning he can’t legally employ you and he’s not okay with that. What’s this nonsense about being unwanted?!” Hank clarified and questioned. Connor suddenly felt warm in his face and had a desire to disappear from Hank’s view. He didn’t understand what this feeling was, and searched his database for it. Ah. Embarrassment. He didn’t realize he spoke aloud and now is embarrassed to be caught in whatever that was. He decidedly does not like this feeling.

  
Hank sees Connor’s face turn bluer than normal and belatedly realizes that it’s Connor’s form of blushing. Hank gets up under the pretense of getting another cup of coffee but instead reaches out a hand to rub Connor’s back a bit, it seems to calm him down most of the time. He’s not even sure that Connor realizes that it does that. He decides to drop the question for now, but it still alarmed him how quickly Connor could dip between emotions now. Connor feels the weight on Hank’s hand on his back and begins to relax almost instantly. He would have to be more careful, saying things like this around the lieutenant would most likely lead to more intense questioning that Connor does not want to answer.

  
Connor decides that now is a great time to do the dishes, they’ve been starting to stack up for a few days and they’re bothering him. He stands and begins the process only to have Hank ask “whatdaya doin that for? You don’t have to do that.” Connor pauses.  
“I... want to. It’s the least I can do considering that you’re letting me stay here.” it’s the best reason he can come with now, and he’s not sure if it’s the truth but it gets Hank to stop eyeballing him and let him be for a minute.

  
“Spose if you really want to. Knock yourself out kid.” Hank chugs the rest of his coffee and gets another cup for while he watches the news. Connor meant to listen to the news but as he’s cleaning, things seem better. He can focus. His stress levels drop 15%. He’s cautiously optimistic about this change and notes it for later experimentation. He also notes the feeling that there is less disorder in the world. It is a comfort to feel as if he can temporarily make things a little less chaotic.  
Looking down at his soapy hands, he decides that he is hopeful that his hands won’t truly destroy everything he touches. He quite likes Sumo and Hank and he think that Hank likes these plates. It’d be a real shame if his worry was literal. Regardless, Connor is able to smile a small bit for the first time at the thought of breaking plates every time he touched one.

The next week, the lieutenant returns to work. He asks Connor six times before leaving the house if he was going to be okay by himself here. Connor of course said yes, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with himself. After Hank left, he had approximately eight and a half hours until he was supervised again. And he had no set tasks, no outstanding obligations…. and no one to talk to. Besides Sumo. Looking at the sleeping giant he made a decision.

  
He starts to clean the house, one small task at a time. First clear off and wipe down the table. Then the coffee table, then dust the shelves, etc etc. He takes each one slowly, savoring the way it make his stress levels drop. He didn’t want to do them all right away because then there wouldn’t be any for the next day, or the day after that. As soon as Sumo perked up, he took him for a morning walk around the block, hiding his LED with a beanie he found in the closet. He cuddled with Sumo and took care of him and then had… hours still left until Hank returned home.

  
He supposed that he could do a few more cleaning things but he really didn’t want to use them all up right away. Things took time to get dirty again. So instead he sat on the couch with Sumo, taking him for another walk in the afternoon and spend some time researching why his diagnostics might be turning up nothing when there is clearly something very wrong with him.

  
He was sitting with Sumo for a while before he began to worry deeply again. The light flickered yellow with hints of red occasionally as he began to slide back into the pits of wondering what if he had done things differently. It became his sole focus again, his hands stilling on Sumo’s fur, who whined about not being pet anymore. He was entranced by the malicious cycle of what ifs and doubts that his new emotions could spring upon him. His thoughts were only interrupted by a barking Sumo, needing to go out.

 

Connor let the dog out and sat for a moment realizing what just happened. He had been panicking, spiraling into a circle of self doubt. He attempted to analyze his memories of these moments to allow him to identify exactly what was bothering him the process failed. His diagnostic software hasn’t seemed to work for quite a few his issues recently. He begins to wonder if his software is malfunctioning or if it was simply a side effect of his deviancy.

Instead when Sumo comes back in, Connor lays on the couch with him and tries to pretend like none of the bad things ever happened to him. Like he was just a regular human man cuddling with a big dog who had a lot of love and slobber to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Connor, you can't help but think people don't want you....  
> Sumo will always sleep on you, dummy. 
> 
> next chapter is one of my favorites that I've written so far!
> 
> ps. thanks to everyone who left kudos!! It really makes me smile! : D


	3. Too Hot

Hank comes home to a blissed out Sumo, laying on the couch with Connor who was constantly petting him slowly. He notices that the house looks a little different. Did Connor clean? Yeah, he must have, the counters are cleared off and the shelves aren’t dusty. He lifts an eyebrow and the large furry mass that is Sumo laying on top of Connor.

“So, have a nice day?” He asks

“I think so? Sumo has decided that I am to be laid on and he is actually too heavy for me to easily move. ~~I don’t want to move, this is … nice?~~ ” Connor says, voice muffled from underneath Sumo’s fur. Hank lets out a good natured chuckle.

“Get off him Sumo, you big lump.” Hank commanded the dog who unwillingly extracted himself from on top of Connor. Hank notes that Connor was still wearing the sweatpants, socks and sweatshirt he found for him, but that he had a beanie on too. Connor shivers a small bit after losing the heat mass that was the dog. He’s covered in fur. Hank smiled a small bit.

“So, you gonna end up stealin all my old clothes or are we gonna just have to buy you some things you actually like?” Hank said hanging up his coat and heading into the kitchen to grab himself a beer. Behind him, still laying on the couch mourning the heat loss, Connor once again feels the embarrassment rise. He quickly takes the beanie off and sets it on the back of the couch. But now his head is colder. Too bad, he thinks to himself.

“Here, I won’t take it again.” Connor says quickly silently berating himself for not putting it back after their walks. Hank looks bemused again cracking a small smile.

“God it was so dull at the precinct today, most people are still out of town, it’ll be awhile before people start returning to Detroit I think…. Keep the damn hat Connor, I can see you’re cold, plus I haven’t worn the thing in like 8 years.” Hank gripes, noticing the hat on the edge of the sofa. Connor quietly takes the hat back and puts in back on.

“Did you clean? It looks nicer in here. I told you, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want. You can do whatever you want Connor” Hank asks, plopping down on the couch with a beer, turning on the tv. He has a feeling Connor is more truthful when he’s not looking at him. The boy seems to get embarrassed easily now. Connor pulls his knees up to his chest as he thinks on how to respond.

“I … wanted to clean. I noticed the other day that … ” Connor pauses, not sure if he’s divulging too much information or if this is what trust is, “it makes me feel better. Things seem less chaotic. There is order.” Connor stops, having said it out loud made it seem much less logical, and now he almost wishes he could just keep his mouth shut about these things. Sure Hank will laugh at hi-  
“That’s good,” Hank says cheerily, sneaking a quick peek at Connor, and sure enough he’s curled into a small ball and looks bluer than usual. Hank sighs, “...That’s actually a pretty common thing in humans, Connor. Cleaning brings order, and order makes people happy. Don’t go overthinkin it kid.” Hank drinks some of his beer while Connor processes the… success? Hank did not laugh at him? Hank did not think it was silly. Then perhaps, it was not silly after all. This feels, nice, Connor decides.

The next few days pass similarly, with cleaning, then taking care of Sumo and allowing Sumo to trap him on the couch until Hank returns home to free him from Sumo’s reign. Connor decides that he likes the weight and the warmth of the dog on top of him. He doesn’t feel trapped, but being pinned there in such a comfortable way is almost preferrable? He can’t touch anything besides Sumo with his destructive hands. Sumo was the exception that his processors allowed in the rule of not touching living things. This is much preferable than leaving the house and potentially causing some sort of destruction. Connor decides to try not to think so much when he’s stuck under Sumo.

Finally at the end of the week, it happens. Connor runs out of things to clean. At first it’s rational, it’s okay, he knew it was coming. But then the illogical messages keep popping up.

Unclean, ~~unclean~~ , unclean. He was dirty, ~~he couldn’t be clean like everything else~~. He decided to wash his hands, even though they were already clean. He used the kitchen sink and turned the water to hot like he used for the dishes, need to be clean clean clean clean. But when he stuck his hands in, something unexpected happened.

“OW!” Connor yelped, surprised and yanking his hands out of the hot water. The water was 3 degrees hotter than what he used for the dishes all week, but for some reason, that had… hurt? He couldn’t feel pain. Why could he feel that? More proof that his diagnostic software had an error. This was wrong. Wrong ~~wrong wrong wrong~~. He stares at the water for a minute before testing by putting just a finger in for a moment.

“Ow!” he pulled it out fast. He stared at his fingers in amazement. First temperature and now… pain? He realized suddenly that he was wasting water. Curious though, he turns down the temperature a few degrees and gingerly sticks his finger under it. This is pleasant Connor realizes, the warmth feels nice. He turned off the tap and thought. He remembers now that there is a shower in the bathroom. Perhaps that might be of interest.

He gets the things he’ll need ready, and undresses, remembering at the last second to take off his beanie. He’s not sure how hot is too hot so he goes for medium between cold and hot to start. The water suddenly hitting him on the back is shocking, and he gets a few warning messages about water popping up.

>WARNING< DO NOT SUBMERGE IF DAMAGE TO SHELL IS MAINTAINED  
>WARNING< DO NOT SWALLOW ANY LIQUIDS ASIDE FROM THIRIUM

These seem to be reasonable requests on behalf of his system and so Connor acknowledges them and they fade away. The water is not warm enough for him he decides, it’s dropping his core temperature a small bit. He turns up the heat a bit and is surprised when it gets much hotter than he had anticipated. He turns it back a little bit to get closer to the temperature he thinks he might want, squirming under the too hot water as it starts to change. Finally. He hits the temperature he thinks he likes. It is pleasant, and he realizes that it is a few degrees higher than his internal temperature. The feeling is so nice that he lets the water run through his hair, even though he doesn’t need to. He would like to spend all day like this, but he is acutely aware of how much water he is using. After a few short minutes of comfort, Connor turns it off and dries off. He returns to the couch to sit with Sumo, and his hair is still wet.

Back at the station, Hank thinks that maybe a friday with only petty small crime is the best day to take the afternoon off. He’s sure that Connor would appreciate the company. He gets the okay from Fowler, and heads for home. When he arrives, he finds Connor asleep, or whatever on the couch with the dog laid across his lap and his hair slightly wet. Hank cocked his head a bit. he didn’t know that androids could sleep, but it sure looked like that was what Connor was doing. Did Connor take a shower? Either way, he grabbed a beer and turned on the tv quietly, watching a rerun of a previous game, not wanting to disturb the boy. His phone buzzed and a message from an unknown number arrived. Hank looked at it thoughtfully, eyes flicking to Connor for a moment and back to the message before replying. Hank puts his phone back in his pocket, thoughts now nowhere near the happenings of the game on the TV.

Connor wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he supposes that after petting sumo for a while, he decided that he could try standby mode again for the first time since leaving Cyberlife. He didn’t really dream per say, but he felt many of his previous thoughts return while in his pseudo sleep mode. He hoped that Amanda was gone for good, he didn’t dare return to the zen garden for fear of her control. He was sure that she’d make him destroy more things he didn’t want to, perhaps even hurt Hank. His thirium pump kicked up at that. Hank noticed the small jerk in Connor’s breathing, the pinch of his forehead. Hank decides to wake him before his LED starts jumping to red. He reaches out and touches Connor’s hand gently, not wanting to startle him.  
Connor feels a pressure on his hand, his eyes snap open, to see Hank, touching his hand, the destructive hands, no nonoNONO. Connor whips his hand out from under Hank’s and in one fluid motion slides out from under Sumo, and over the back of the couch. He lands on his ass, frozen in shock.

“Woah! Connor! Are you okay!” Hank sets his beer down fast and gets around the couch as fast as he can. Connor is starting to curl in on himself. His LED flashing REd red ReD. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, holy shit Connor you can move so fuckin fast.” Hank is inching closer, and Connor is basically oblivious to anything but the error messages popping up in front of his eyes.  
>DESTRUCTION  
>UNCLEAN  
>DESTRUCTION IMMINENT

Surely his destructive hands were going to cause some sort of awful thing to happen to Hank. Surely everything he touches gets destroyed. Sumo comes around the couch and excitedly licks the tears off of Connor’s face, surprising both Hank and Connor, defusing the situation slightly.

“... Connor? What’s goin’ on inside that brain of yours kid?” Hank asks softly. He’s close enough now that he can put an arm around Connor and pulls him close to rub his back slowly. Connor is staring at his hands, willing them to stop shaking.

“I was scared.” Connor says, his voice slightly distorted again. Hank’s heart jumps in his throat. Connor can see past the error messages to Sumo’s jovial face.

“Scared of what, Connor? I’m sorry if I startled you,” Jesus kid, he’s gonna be the death of me Hank thinks.

“....that I would hurt you, that she would make me hurt you...” Connor says slowly, not looking at Hank, but instead at Sumo who was pushed up against Connor’s side. Hank could see fresh tears escape the eyes of his young friend. Hank thinks for a moment.

“Who is this she, Connor? No one can make you do anything now Connor, you know that right?” Hank says quietly.

“I … don’t want to talk about Amanda. Also that’s not exactly true… ” Connor admits quietly. Hank wants to curse, those damn bastards at cyberlife just can’t fuckin let him go, let him live.

“Connor, you gotta give me a little more to go on here bud,” Hank pressed gently. Connor sighed. He opened his mouth intending to give Hank the bare minimum info.

“Amanda was my handler at Cyberlife, she is an AI program that lives in my head. She has proven that she can take over my body and make me do things I don’t want to do. I only barely managed to escape her command last time.” Connor says, detaching himself from the emotions. They are too much. Too much too much. He doesn’t know why he keeps telling Hank the truth. He knows he shouldn’t. Is this what trust is?

Hank’s eyebrows raise and he lets out a heavy breath. “Wow. That’s a lot kid. But you got away from her. You did it and if she dares to show her face again, I have no doubts you’ll be able to escape again.” Hank puts on a brave face for Connor, who seems to appreciate it.

“... Hank? May I ask a favor? It may seem odd and unorthodox, but I think it would really help for now and-”

“Just spit it out kid, what can I do?” Hank interrupted him.

“...please don’t touch my hands... and please don’t ask why.” Connor whispers, more tears falling without his want. Sumo perks up to lick them from where the collect on his chin. Hank is quiet for a moment, desperately wanting to be able to help more but eventually settles on this for now.

“Sure thing, kid. Let’s get off the floor, my old bones can’t handle much more of this” Connor looks glad to be moving away from the topic. Connor decides not to sleep for at least the next week. He takes another shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Connor, it's okay bud. Hank's only trying to help.


	4. i'm knot fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor, Connor. You'll learn some new things about being an android that you had not anticipated.

 i'm ~~knot~~ fine

Another week passes, there is less cleaning to do and more time is spent taking showers, and cuddling with Sumo. Connor isn’t sure what to do with himself. He thinks that perhaps this is what boredom feels like.There is nothing to distract Connor from his self-loathing, and he thinks maybe he hates it. Hank returns home that night and finally snaps.

 

“Connor you’ve gotta find something to do. You can just sit here moping all day.” Hank gripes over his second beer in an hour. Connor notes his alcohol consumption and replies.

 

“Such as? I have no outstanding tasks, no mission. I have no idea how to fill this free time I have” Connor states. He’s known for a while that doing nothing was making Hank uncomfortable but he has no idea of what to do about it.

 

“What- hell I don’t know Connor, find a hobby, something to do to fill the time.” Hank scrambles to find a way to describe what he means. Hobby. Connor searches his database and the internet for hobbies. Painting, writing, crafts, reading, there were tons of activities he could try he realized.

 

“Oh. I see. Hobbies.” Connor rolled the word around in his mouth for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to him to do something for the fun of it, not to please another being. “I think I might like to try some of these.” He says, eyes unfocused as he looks at search results. “Do you mind if I order a few things to try?” Connor asks timidly. He has no money of his own to spend so he must ask Hank.

 

“Knock yourself out” Hank replies.

 

“I feel I must inform you that knocking myself out is not only counter productive but could be dangerous for my health,” Connor quips, feeling annoyed with how often Hank says it. Hank gapes at him for a moment before letting loose a laugh that tips his head back.

 

“Well, I’ll be damned, you do have a sense of humor. It’s just buried beneath all that worry and shenanigans you got goin’ on.” Hank looks amused, hank half raised to poke at Connor’s LED before realizing that Connor might not like that, and instead letting his arm fall onto the back of the couch around Connor’s shoulders, keeping a small distance between his arm and Connor’s back.. Hank isn’t sure where the boundaries lie anymore, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to deal with the guilt that comes with setting Connor off on another episode. Connor’s heart ~~thirium pump~~ warms at Hank’s approval. He’s completely oblivious to Hank’s worries about boundaries. Connor goes back to looking through the listings of different types of yarns. After a few minutes, Connor gets an idea.

 

“Hank, what is your favorite color?” Connor asks

 

“Uhh. Shit man I don’t know anymore? I mean I kinda like grey, like the charcoal grey kinda color? I don’t know, I was never the one to pick colors even for this damn house. That was always… her.” Hank looks distant now. Connor blinks.

 

~TWO SKEINS OF CHARCOAL GREY YARN ADDED TO CART

~VARIETY PACK OF KNITTING NEEDLES ADDED TO CART

~MIXED PACK OF CROCHET HOOKS ADDED TO CART

~BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO CRAFTS ADDED TO CART

 

Connor looks around, there are crime novels on the shelves that he could try, and he’s sure he can try the other things he found in his search with whatever Hank has around the house.

 

~CART SUBTOTAL COMES TO 15.82

>QUERY -PURCHASE?

>YES ~~> NO~~

~ITEMS SHOULD ARRIVE MONDAY AT 9:32 AM

 

Connor smiles quietly. He hopes that these new activities are captivating enough to keep his attention off of his issues. Hank sees him smile out of the corner of his eye, and does his best to pretend he doesn’t notice.

 

The weekend passes with a companionable shopping trip, buying some new clothes for Connor and helping him find out what he likes and does not like. Hank starts his own personal game of questions for Connor, pushing him to decide or start thinking about what he likes or does not like. The questions start simple.

 

“What’s your favorite color?” Hank asks. They’re in the car on the way to the second store.

“I’m not sure” Connor frowns.

 

“Well, what colors don’t you like. Narrow down the options.” Hank proded.

 

“Blue, Red….” Connor shudders and then adds “White.” Hank nods, these make sense.

Blue, associated with Cyberlife tech, red is bloody crimes, white… makes less sense but Hank understands that Connor keeps things from him.

 

“Why do you ask, Hank?” Connor questions

 

“I’m honestly just curious, you’re just discovering what you like and such. But I have a feeling this started a while ago.” Hank replies honestly, keeping his eyes on the road.

 

“How so? I only became deviant about a month and a half ago.” Connor replies, curiosity piqued.

 

“I thought for a while you had been programmed to like dogs, but I’ve seen plenty of other androids who are downright terrified to play with animals. It’s truly something you personally like.” Hank mused aloud. Connor hadn’t really thought of that before. But he supposed that Hank was right.

 

“Next question, favorite thing to do so far?”Hank continued. But this one was easy for Connor.

“Pet Sumo.” He replied and smiled softly. And so the questions continued throughout the weekend and into the next week. While at the station if Hank thought of a new question, he’d write it down and come home with a list.

 

Monday morning rolled around and no sooner was Hank out the door to the precinct than Connor was excitedly awaiting his new things. His things. He never really had a lot that belonged to him. Now he had some clothes, folded neatly in a drawer in Hank’s room. He had his coin, always in his pocket. And now he had his crafts.

 

He decided to read for a while to pass the time before the delivery was made. Hank had warned him this morning that delivery times are estimates so it might be off by a bit and not to worry. Connor perused Hank’s collection of crime novels, picking up the most well loved volume, the spine cracked open and the pages dog eared. He sat down with it and began to read, at first entranced by the premise of the plot and the interesting suspects. But after the fourth chapter, Connor felt no real thrill in reading it. He felt as if he already knew who the killer was. Knew who went through the trouble of cleaning it up. It felt obvious. He was reminded again of the feeling of boredom.

 

He was jolted from his thoughts as the delivery truck arrived and his package was left on the front porch. As soon as the delivery man was three steps away from the porch, Connor snatched the package from the doorstep. He for a moment forgot his fears as he opened the packages and carefully read the beginners guide, trying hard to make sure that he didn’t misread any of the information.

 

The patterns for making things with these sticks, hooks and yarn were many numbers and abbreviations, so it was important that he did not miscount or misremember any abbreviations. In a way it was almost like a formula for the item itself. The book recommended that he try a small swatch of each stitch before starting a larger pattern. Connor frowns. He wishes he had known this before buying the yarn, he would have bought more.  

 

Connor slowly tries out the basic stitch with his crochet hook as he had read online that it was the easier of two crafts to start with. He quickly finds with the first swatch that fine motor functions are not something that cyberlife had excelled at. This was hidden by the fact that much of android clothing does not have buttons, their shoes have no shoelaces, so on and so forth. According to Connor’s quick google search, he finds that the child care models have much finer motor skills boasting that they can teach children to tie their shoes and zip up their coats.

 

Connor on the other hand did not require as fine of motor skills. It does not take fine control to pull the trigger on a gun or to talk people down and investigate crime scenes. The things he was designed to do. He was not designed to crochet, or knit. These things will take him time to learn. He will be clumsy at it he realizes. He finishes the third row of his beginner stitch and sees that it is lumpy and some stitches are tighter than others, making it wavy. He frowns. He searches his database to identify the what he is feeling and returns with frustration.

 

He decides to start his swatch over again. He finds a scissors in the kitchen and goes to cut the string when he realizes that there must be a way to reuse the yarn. Can he undo the stiches? Curious, he sets down the scissors and the hook and pulls on the loose end of yarn.

 

BRRRRPPTTTTTTTTT!

The swatch comes unraveled fast and makes a satisfying noise that Connor did not expect. He grins, that was fun! Oh! Fun! This is what fun is, this light feeling and happiness in his chest. There is still another row left. BRRRRPPTTTT! Again a smile rises and he gets to the original knot used to start the swatch. He restarts the swatch keeping special attention to the tightness of the stitches to keep it uniform and even. It takes longer this way but the swatch is better looking albeit still sort of wavy. After an hour, he has an acceptably even looking swatch.

 

Connor feels a warm feeling flood his chest as he looks at his 3 by 3 square of crocheted fabric he had made. He made that. He stopped. Had he ever made something before. He’s made jokes, made a friend, but struggled to think of anything else he’s created or made. The warmth in his chest grew. What was this feeling? He searched his databases, and returned with pride. He was proud of his achievement, it wasn’t much, but he had made that. He didn’t really feel like ripping it back out.

 

A quick search returned the phrase for undoing a piece of crocheted or knitted fabric as “frogging” it. He presumes it is because of the similarity in the sound it makes. He also looks back to the book for information on how to finish a section of work. After reading the section twice, he thinks he understands, and nervously attempts to tie it off. The shake of his hands is unexpected though, and the small metal hook clatters to the ground, pulling on the yarn on the way down, starting the fabric to frogg. Connor freezes, mortified that his work is being undone.

 

He quickly searches the internet for help, happening across a video of a kind old lady who reassures her viewers that this a common issue among beginners, and not to worry. She goes on to describe how to find the current stitch and redo the small section of work that is lost. Connor feels embarrassed when he realizes how easy it is to find his place again but the old lady in the video assures those watching that everyone panics the first time it happens. She ends the video with wave, saying “See you next time, you folks with the stitching itch!” Connor closes the video and returns to his piece.

 

The second time tying off the swatch goes much better and Connor is starting to feel better about the next swatches. He starts in on the next type of stitch, determined to learn as many of the stitches as he can today. The hours pass by quickly and Sumo interrupts him a few times to be let out or to be pet, but most of Connor’s attention is focused on this task.

Hank returns home to a clean house, and not a piece of yarn in sight. Connor decided that his little project will be a secret surprise, and so he hides the yarn and supplies on top of a cupboard where he guesses Hank will not look.

 

“Well, today was a fuckin shit show,” Hank gripes, pouring himself some liquor. Connor frowns slightly at this but Hank’s back is turned and he doesn’t see.

 

“How so?” Connor inquired, perusing through the books on the shelf to see if any others catch his eye.

 

“First group of people to come back to Detroit and a few of em already picking fuckin’ fights with Androids. Luckily no one’s been hurt yet, but now all of us are on call in case things escalate tonight.” Hank sighs heavily, taking another drink. Connor frowns more. This is not good.

 

“I should be helping. I was designed to de escalate situations” Connor says quietly, not intending for Hank to hear.

 

“Like hell Fowler would put you on that, even if you were allowed to come back yet. They’d only get angrier seeing an Android negotiator.” Hank replies hotly, thinking to himself that HE wouldn’t let Connor be put in that danger. The damn kid has been through enough.

 

“Are you sure you even want to go back to the dpd?” Hank sighs. Connor thinks for a moment.

“I have done enough good things with the dpd to understand that it would continue to be a good idea for me to return.”

 

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you wanted to return, not if your fuckin track record says you should go back.” Hank says gruffly, finishing his drink. Connor’s eyebrows pinch together. He looks down at his hands while Hank pours himself another drink. Perhaps he would be able to do enough good to offset the bad that he has done? If only that’s how it worked. He was willing to try though.

 

“I…. would like to return, yes. I feel I could do some good for Detroit.” Connor finally says slowly.

“Lord knows she needs some good after all this uproar,” Hank says. He eyes the book on the coffee table that Connor had started to read this morning. “I see you found my favorite. Whatdya think of it?” Hank asks,  feeling his second drink a bit.

 

“It was an interesting start but I feel as if I know how it will end already. It brought back this feeling similar to the boredom I experienced last week. I stopped reading it.” Connor stated, taking a seat with a few other books in a pile. Hank gaped at him.

 

“But! That’s half the point! I bet you think it’s Parker, but it’s not!” Hank says accusingly sticking a finger out to point at him, angry. Connor is taken aback, the lieutenant is rather passionate about this book.

 

“It’s obviously him. He’s got all the signs of a killer, and --” Hank holds up a hand.

“Connor. If they made it that easy of a give away, why would the author write the next 45 chapters?” Hank lifts an eyebrow at him. Connor pauses, that hadn’t occurred to him. His mouth opened, nothing came out, and he closed it again. Why hadn’t that occurred to him?

 

“Good writers give you all the wrong clues in the beginnin’. You can’t trust that the author isn’t holdin’ sumthin’ back. There’s always more to be gleaned than what the detective finds at first. Otherwise it’d be fuckin boring, right?” Hank rants, clearly upset that Connor missed the point of mystery novels. Connor was, surprised, he thinks. He wasn’t used to not being able to see all the facts for himself, relying on another to tell him all the pertinent information was not usually how he solved things.

 

“Is this what is called an ‘Unreliable Narrator?’” Connor asks, genuinely curious now. Hank stops to think for a moment.

“Yes, and no? It’s kind of just good writing?” Hank tries, stops and then finds another way to describe it. “All authors are in a way, unreliable narrators. If they tell you everything at the start then there is no surprise, no tenseness. If they tell you nothin’ then it’s boring as well. They gotta give you enough to let you think you know what’s goin on, and then give you contradictin’ info to spice it up. Read a few more chapters and lemme know what you think tomorrow.” Hank explains.

 

“Sure thing, Hank” Connor replies lightly, interest in the book rekindled. The rest of the night passes quietly, Connor anxiously wondering if the tense situation between the humans and Androids would snap tonight or not.

 

“Maybe you ought to call Markus and talk to him about it” Hank suggests on his third drink, watching the game through half open eyes, clearly exhausted. Connor stiffens up a little bit. Markus. He hasn’t talked to him in nearly 3 weeks.

 

The backlog of messages he has from Markus is getting quite long, but he never feels like he can answer. The only one he answered was the second night he stayed with Hank. Markus had messaged him to ask if he was alive, there had been some Androids who had died in the cold of the storm that started on that day in the park. He had replied: “I am alive” and that was all. Markus kept asking to meet up, to come visit New Jericho, to help with the efforts. Connor had ignored all of them. Just thinking about seeing or talking to Markus, his  stress levels jumps up 25%

 

“I’m sure they’ve got it under control” Connor replies a little too icy for Hank’s liking.

 

“Hey, what’s your deal, I thought you’d want to spend some time with other Androids instead of with an old broke drunk like me.” Hank says testily. Connor chooses not to reply and instead walks into the kitchen to hide Hank’s liquor. By the time he gets back to the couch, Hank is asleep. Connor carefully extracts his glass from his hand, and nudges the lieutenant awake with an elbow.

 

“Sleeping in that position will be unnecessarily stressful on your vertebrae. I would advise returning to your bed.” Connor states, almost tired before he remembers that Androids shouldn’t get tired.

 

“Yeah, yea,” Hank gripes before lumbering off to bed. Connor reopens the book in the living room and Hank lays in bed, frowning at the ceiling. Hank takes his cell phone from the bedside table and sends a text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully these distractions help, but they can't fix the underlying issues. 
> 
> Wondering who our mysterious texter is?  
> Stay tuned to find out eventually!


	5. Late Frost

 

 

Hank leaves earlier for work than usual and Connor pretends to be sleeping. He’s not sure why he does but Hank seems to be cautious about waking him up, Connor presumes because of what happened last time. But just before leaving, Hank goes out to his car and brings something in, Connor doesn’t know what, still pretending to sleep. A shopping bag crinkles near Connor on the couch and Hank mutter an expletive under his breath. Finally some rustling with items on the coffee table and then Hank putting on his coat and leaving, locking the door quietly. The car starts and leaves soon after. 

Connor waits another minute or two, cracking an eye open after a moment of hesitation, unsure of what was brought in. He sees a package of new ballpoint pens, and some sort of book beneath them. Curious now, he slides the book out from beneath and flips it open. It’s blank and a sticky note inside says

“I don’t know what’s goin’ on in that head of yours, but sometimes it’s good to get it out on paper. It helps some people.” Clearly Hank’s handwriting, Connor is having that odd feeling in his chest again, the one he cannot define. There is another note under the first. 

“You don’t have to show anyone this book if you don’t want. I won’t ask about it. It is YOURS. Hope it helps - Hank” Connor smiles at that, like he wouldn’t have been able to recognize Hank’s writing. Connor takes the book to the table, opening the new package of pens, appreciating the fact that Hank even bought him new pens, when he really didn’t have to. 

He looks over the little book, it’s a worn looking warm brown leather, the paper inside an off white. The book looked almost hand made, but  Connor could tell that it was just well manufactured to look that way. He flips to the first page, and it is very blank. He doesn’t know what to write. If Hank had been there, he would’ve been concerned at the way that Connor froze, staring at the blank page, LED flickering yellow. He felt like there was no good way to start, it would be bad no matter what. 

Suddenly hyper aware of everything, Connor notices himself being frozen and tries to relax. Perhaps he should do the dishes again. That should help. He gets up from the table and leaves the book open with the pen in the spine of it. He starts in on the dishes, carefully making sure that the water isn’t too hot for his newly sensitive skin. While on the second dish it occurs to him to think about what Hank would tell him if he said he had no idea what to write. He thought about it for a while and settled that he’d likely tell Connor to just write whatever comes to mind, he’s over thinking it. 

Feeling better, the dishes done, Connor returns to the book, determined to try this. Hank thought it might help, Hank would be upset if he didn’t even try. He started there. He began writing about not wanting to disappoint Hank, and from there continued to talk about the things he wished he could tell Hank but knew that Hank would be very concerned if he did tell him. He wrote about what happened on that snowy day that he went to the park. He writes about feeling like his destruction would be the most productive thing he could do. He writes about how sad he feels that he is not welcome among the other Androids. He doesn’t belong with people, he doesn’t belong with Androids. 

Sumo interrupts him with a nuzzle under his arm and Connor realizes with a start that a few hours have passed, and it’s well past Sumo’s regular time to go out. Embarrassed, he lets Sumo out and is surprised to see that he’s filled multiple pages back to back with his frantic writing. Hank was right though. It felt, good. It was easier for Connor to see when his conclusions were illogical when he was writing them. Plus the feeling of putting it down on paper, was like proving to himself that the feelings were real. Not just figments of his imagination or logs in his memory banks that could be corrupted. 

He let Sumo back in, and sat down to resume writing, setting a timer for himself for an hour before Hank usually gets home. Plenty of time for him to find a place to stash his new book- or he thought, journal. Journal seemed like the more accurate word for what this was to him. He continued to write for a while, going further into topics that have been bothering him, such as his fears about Amanda, and his obsession with his hands being destructive. Connor took a moment to look over the sentence he just wrote, pausing thoughtfully.

“I find the idea of touching living things with these hands fills me with fear. The exception to this rule is Sumo.” Logically, Connor thinks, his hands do not cause instant destruction of living things, but it creates such a feeling of fear coiled in his abdomen to consider the touch that it must mean something to him. He thinks back, he’s done some good with these hands, right? He searches through his past memories, trying to pull up any time he’s done something good besides waking the androids in the cyberlife storage. He supposes that not shooting those girls in love and letting them go counts, but in reality it was only suppressing his destructive nature. He pauses and realizes that not shooting Chloe falls into the same sort of category, but in a different way. He was supposed to shoot all three of these girls and instead chose to spare them against his directive. 

If Hank had been in the house, he would have been able to hear Connor thinking from across the place. His LED flashes yellow yellow red red yellow yellow as Connor continued thinking, his pen still above the paper. His directive. Amanda’s commands. Cyberlife’s commands. These were the destructive nature he was thinking of. NOT his destructive nature. Connor feels a sense close to the feeling of water rush through him. A quick database search returned relief. This was a good feeling, Connor decided. He wrote something down and circled it. His LED flickered yellow for a moment before settling to blue. 

“I am not destructive. Cyberlife is. Amanda is. I am not them.” The circled words read. He closes the journal, matter of factly, feeling satisfied with how much he wrote today. He notes that he filled 32 pages front and back. This is approximately 15% of the book’s capacity. He puts the journal and the pens on top of the cupboard with his knitting needles and takes down his yarn and crochet hook. He still has time before the Lieutenant leaves work to return home. 

He settles on the couch with Sumo before realizing that Sumo hasn’t been walked yet that day. So he takes Sumo out for a walk, thinking the whole time about the next swatch he’s going to make. They nearly get lost for a moment when Connor forgets to turn at their usual spot but Sumo whines and pulls on the leash, reminding Connor. They make it back in record time, and they both curl up on the couch, Connor with his yarn, and Sumo with a chew toy. 

Hours fly by, Connor completely concentrated on the task at hand. He’s on his third swatch when the alarm he’d set earlier goes off, startling both him and Sumo. Connor freezes, his heart  thirium pump hammering. He forgot, he actually forgot that he set an alarm. He quickly shuts it off and sits still for a moment, letting his heart  thirium pump slow down. Eventually, he ties off his swatch and puts his yarns back. 

He’s on the chair putting his things on top of the cupboard when he hears Hank’s car pull into the driveway, and he panics. He shoves the yarn up there and does his best to push it down so it won’t be seen and scrambles down off the chair, hastily putting it back at the table. He jumps over the back of the couch, pulling the blanket over himself and snatching the book from the coffee table, opening back up to where he was at, doing his best to look like he’d been there all day. 

Just in the nick of time, Hank opens the door to a very confused Sumo, the commotion of Connor and Hank at the same time, both demanding his attention. Hank lifted an eyebrow at Sumo before bending down to pet him for a moment. Hank notices that Connor is not far in the book yet, and the journal is gone from the coffee table. He guess that Connor put it somewhere to keep it safe, and the corner of his mouth ticks up for a second. 

“Have a nice day Connor?” Hank asks as he takes off his coat and sets down his things. Connor’s LED spins yellow yellow faster as he replies.

“Yeah, pretty uneventful. It was nice and quiet.” Connor tries for nonchalant and Hank doesn’t buy it but he also doesn’t ask. Hank can see that there is cleaning that could have been done today but were left alone, he can see that Connor is not as far in the book as he would be if he had read during the day. But he doesn’t ask, as promised. 

“Sounds nice, better than my day.” Hank says gruffly, shooting Sumo off the couch so he can sit down. “Not really any concrete laws we can apply to this situation just yet, some small fights broke out today of assholes going after androids. Fuckers can’t understand to leave you guys alone.” Hank looks…. frustrated, Connor realizes. 

“There will always be people who do not accept androids.” Connor states, staring at the TV but not really paying any attention to it. His LED whirring yellow yellow. Connor feels like his hands need to shake, but that’s illogical. He’s glad he’s holding the book. He feels like he needs to move but there is nothing to do. Yellow yellow red yellow yellow. Hank notices the blink of red and the fast moving yellow. 

“Connor? You doing okay…?” Hank asks quietly, watching Connor out of the corner of his eye, pretending to watch the game. Connor halts for a second, caught off guard by the question. He’s always surprised at how much Hank cares, despite trying to hide it. 

“I… ” He starts. He tries again “I’m going to take Sumo for another walk.” He quickly gets up and drags Sumo out the door with him. He feels like he needs air, needs to be out of the house. Hank frowns but doesn’t stop him. He simply calls out, 

“Careful of those assholes, take your hat with you.” Connor takes the beanie as suggested, noting that Hank is probably right. Better to be safe than sorry. It occurs to him halfway down the block that Hank took his gun after that day in the park, and Connor hasn’t seen it since. He also catches onto the fact that he has yet to see Hank’s gun anywhere in the house since they’ve been back. Has the lieutenant hidden the guns for Connor’s sake? Either way, he’s unarmed. The thought leaves him with a sense of unease that he is accustomed to and it is upsetting. 

Connor and Sumo walk quickly, the mushy half melted snow slippery under their feet. Sumo looks as happy as can be, and trots along with whatever speed Connor picks. Connor wished that simply moving outside could grant him such joy. They are halfway through their walk when Sumo needs to stop and pee. Connor is nervous about standing still, Hank’s warning still echoing through his head. Yes, he was programmed to fight and negotiate but he wasn’t nervous or upset before, when he had to do these kinds of things. Luckily no one is around and the rest of their walk is quiet, but somehow this does little to calm Connor down. 

Connor arrives back at the house, and lets Sumo back in, deciding that he wanted to just spend another few minutes outside. He stands out by the garage door, watching as some fresh snow begins to fall. Connor almost wishes that he had some sort of human excuse like smoking a cigarette or something. Normally walking Sumo was a stress reliever for Connor, he’s not sure why it wasn’t today. He felt like something was terribly wrong, but he couldn’t see anything wrong. Nothing seemed wrong, why did it feel wrong. 

After a minute or two, Connor heard the front door creak open and Hank sigh. He heard the lieutenant’s feet crunching in the fresh snow, and then he felt a wetness on his cheek, hotter than the air around him. Connor realized with a start that he was crying again. How frustrating. Without saying a thing, Hank put an arm around his back, rubbing Connor’s shoulder slowly. They looked up at the snow together in close to silence, Connor sniffling a little from time to time. Connor decided that emotions suck, and he expressed this sentiment thickly, his voice distorted with emotions he wasn’t supposed to have. 

“I’ve decided… that emotions suck…” Hank let out a deep laugh from his stomach, truly surprised by Connor yet again. 

“They sure do, don’t they.” Hank said finally.

“How… do people deal with these. It’s so confusing.” Connor admits finally. He frowns and Hank notes that his LED flashes yellow yellow red yellow yellow. A common pattern as of late. 

“Everyone deals a little differently. Why do you think I drink?” Hank says honestly, looking off into the snow again. “Why don’t we go back inside? I have something I want to show you.” Hank guides them back towards the door. Connor really doesn’t feel like going back inside just yet, but he doesn’t have the energy to argue. 

Back in the living room, Sumo watches them curiously as they go past Hank’s room, past the bathroom door, and down towards the end of the hall, where Connor has never dared even step. Hank lets his arm slide off of Connor’s shoulders and walks forwards, assuming that Connor will follow. Connor stays perfectly still, his processors screaming at him that he cannot go there, he will not go there. Hank looks back at Connor, lifting an eyebrow at him. 

“You comin in or what? It’s not gonna bite cha.” Hank says gruffly. Connor hesitates.

“I always thought you did not want to disturb the space, it seems important to you.” Connor replied quietly, nervously pulling at his fingers again. Hank sighs heavily.

“Just get in here Connor,” and he opens the door to Cole’s room and walks inside. Connor slowly follows, every part of him telling him to turn and run. This is too much, too much too much. Connor’s hands begin to shake. 

_ Stress Levels 68% and rising. _

The room is mostly empty with a few boxes sitting about, presumably all of Cole’s things. They’re dusty as well as the empty shelves and dresser. But not as dusty as they should be. Hank was quiet, letting Connor think and adjust. The amount of dust on the cleared off spaces would be from only about a month. Connor stops. A month ago. That’s when the negotiations were, that’s when Hank came to pick him up from the plaza. Oh. 

Hank cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure of how to start.

“I uh. Well the room wasn’t really being used for anything and it uh well, seemed a shame to have it go to waste. Plus I was tired of looking at it all, it’s just collecting dust anyways and-” Connor turned to look at the lieutenant, clearly rambling to fill the silence. 

“You started to pack up the stuff when the negotiations started. Why?” Connor asked numbly. He felt like he knew the answer but wanted to hear it nonetheless. Hank hesitated. 

“I .... wanted you to feel like you had a place- no, a home. I wanted you to be able to come home, Connor.” Hank looked at Connor warmly. Connor wanted to feel good, wanted to feel happy, but instead felt like he did on that snowy day at the plaza. It was too late, the lieutenant had already gotten attached, there was nothing he could do now about his destruction that would save Hank from being upset. 

Hank saw the LED run red and spin fast, more red than yellow. He felt his heart sink. He pushed him too fast. He had hoped that this would help Connor feel welcome, like he belonged here, but it clearly did not.

“I wanted you to have it earlier, but I didn’t want to push you too fast. Deviancy has not been easy for you to adjust to, I’m sorry I pushed it too soon- fuck.” Hank explained quickly, backtracking to try fix the situation. Connor numbly understood that Hank seemed distraught that he upset Connor. Connor felt like he needed to breathe. He couldn’t breathe. 

Hank saw Connor’s eyes widen at something Hank could not see, and suddenly, he just bolted. Connor was out the front door faster than Hank could catch him, and the door hung open, the snow falling in the entryway lazily with Connor nowhere to be seen by the time that Hank gets to the door. Hank runs outside the door, frantically looking for a trace of Connor, but the wind picked up suddenly and the tracks were quickly blown away. 

“CONNOR! CONNOR!” Hank called into the wind. “SHIT!” Hank was beyond upset. On repeat in his ears was the phone call… “A truck skidded on the ice… I’m sorry he didn’t make it.”

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” Hank yelled to no one in particular. It’s too cold out, he’ll freeze up in the storm Hank worried. He couldn’t lose another son. No. 

Hank goes back inside after another minute of looking around outside. He looks for his coat quickly and when he leaves the house, he leaves all the doors unlocked in case Connor comes back while he’s out looking. He leaves all the outside lights on, and gets in his car. 

Where would Connor go? Hank racks his brain for nearby places that Connor might go, driving slowly along the road, looking for any sign of his… son? Hank stops at the thought he just had. He supposed he did think of Connor as a son now, he was worried sick that Connor was going to get himself really hurt out there, no need to stop and worry about whether or not he was his son or not. 

 

Connor soon realized that like very hot temperatures could hurt, so could very cold. He had his hoodie and warm clothes on, including his beanie, but it still wasn’t enough. The biting wind felt like it went right through all his layers, and his nose and fingers began to smart within a few minutes of being outside. He wasn’t really sure where he was going, but just somewhere. Not that room, not that house. Not right now at least. 

He’s a little more in control of his emotions as he walks, and eventually decides to go to the little library a few blocks away. It says online that they’re still open, and it should be quiet and dry, maybe even warm enough for him to get rid of the error message warning him about core temperature dropping. 

 

Hank is beginning to panic when he realizes that he’s acting dumb. Connor wanted space, he wanted to be alone. Perhaps Hank just needs to trust that he will come home. Hank isn’t sure it’s the best idea but considering the weather conditions, he pulls over and pulls out his phone to make a text to Connor’s number. He’s not sure that Connor’s number even works now that Cyberlife is undergoing such drastic changes and measures, but it’s worth a shot he thinks.

He types: You can come back whenever, all doors open, if you get into trouble pls call. P.s. don’t give me a heart attack like that again. Pls. 

Sent.

 

Hank hesitates, pulling up the unknown number. No, Connor wouldn’t want that. Hank had already caused enough distress today. Another day perhaps, when things were a little more stable. 

 

Connor is in sight of the library when the message dings in his alerts and he jumps so bad, he nearly falls on his ass in the snow. He was not expecting a text message, but after reading it, he realizes that Hank is trying to give him space to cool off on his own. And maybe Hank doesn’t say it but he’s worried about Connor. Connor’s not sure how to feel about it, but he thinks he’ll hang out in the library for a while to think it over. 

The library is warm, just as Connor had predicted it might be, although the lady at the desk tells him when he walks in that they might close early to make sure that the employees can get home safely. 

“That’s alright, I just need to sit for a moment and warm up,” Connor replies, faking a smile before going over to the racks of murder mystery novels and selecting one. He sits in a chair and pretends to read for a while. He knows he probably has at most another hour before he’d have to leave and find somewhere else but it’s rather nice and warm inside this building and Connor is loathe to leave it. 

He thinks about the text Hank sent him and wonders if Hank will be mad when he gets back. Probably. He could just… not go back. Ow. His heart hurt at that thought, and Connor is surprised at this. He thinks about just going back to the park and finishing what he had thought about doing last time he was there, and wow that hurts more than it did on that day. Curious now, he thinks about returning home to Hank, and while it hurts a bit to think about, it hurts far less than the other options. 

Staying might be uncomfortable for Connor, but leaving was more upsetting and leaving for good was unacceptably painful. Maybe he could handle a little discomfort. Things had seemed nice for the past month. He’s pretty sure that he’d miss his yarns that Hank bought him, and- Oh. The journal. He can’t leave that there. If Hank finds it, he doesn’t want to think about the kind of upset that Hank would be. He can just hear Hank cursing cyberlife up and down the block already. A small smile creeps onto his face at that. 

He’s not sure how he feels about Hank hiding the guns in the house. He’s not sure if he’s glad that Hank worries about him in that way, or mad that Hank apparently does not trust him around firearms. He wonders if he would trust himself to have a firearm around when Hank is not there. He concludes that he would not, as his hands shake at the thought. Perhaps he is glad for Hank’s thoughtfulness.

 

A small sound of surprise from the woman at the desk catches Connor’s attention and he follows her gaze to the windows facing the street. A group of people are gathered around some other people on the ground, who after scanning, Connor realizes are androids. The group is taking turns kicking this Android woman and a small child android. Connor is frozen, he wants to run out there, he wants to make sure that they are safe. But his hands, if he hurts the humans it would look bad for the androids, Markus would be so angry with him. He’s frozen in fear of what he might do, and it dawns on him that he can still do something, without going out there himself. He calls the police.

 

Hank hears a call come through the dispatch radio he has in his car, an odd sounding voice describing a few androids being beaten outside of the library in his area. Before Hank can even get to his radio to respond, another young officer says that they’re a block away, and on it. The caller was anonymous, and they hang up almost instantly. Hank sits in his car in the driveway for a moment longer before deciding to just give Connor a little longer, and the benefit of the doubt before trying to text him again. Hank would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t worried about the kid. 

 

After the angry humans are dispersed by the police, and the androids taken care of, Connor guesses correctly that he needs to leave the library for them to close up for the night. He quietly slips out the door when the woman at the desk isn’t looking, and starts walking in the snow again. He knows he should go back to Hank’s house, but part of him just isn’t ready yet. 

 

He thinks as he walks, about why he can’t accept Hank’s offer. Why he can’t just leave, and why everything seemed to go wrong tonight when none of it really should have. He wonders if androids can just have bad days. Or if he’s just giving himself an easy out. Either way, he eventually ends up on Hank’s front porch, all the lights on and the door unlocked just like he had said. He hears the game on inside, but it’s so quiet, he’s not sure that Hank is even listening to it. Should he knock? Should he just walk in? He doesn’t know what to do, how to approach this situation. 

 

Before he can think too hard on it though, Sumo barks at the door, sensing his presence and Hank opens the door quickly, pulling Connor into a tight hug. Connor freezes, his hands out in the air, not touching Hank. 

“I was worried about you, you ass.” Hank says into Connor’s shoulder. Connor hears the words but there is no malice behind them, only warmth. Connor relaxes. This feels, better, he decides. 

“I’m… sorry.” Connor says quietly. Hank pulls him into the house, slowly letting him out of the hug, closing the door behind him. 

“Hey, uh I know I’m not good at all this shit, but sorry too. I didn’t really think before showing you. I get if it’s too much. Some days are just too overwhelming, if you could drink I’d suggest having a drink.” Hank says quickly, clearly uncomfortable with all these feelings hanging in the air. Connor smiles weakly.

“Drinking would be quite unpleasant for me. I have no stomach, and therefore no where for the liquid to go.” Connor informed him. Hank made a face.

“Okay, gross. Didn’t need to know why, but that’s cool.” Hank sits on the couch. 

“But I appreciate the sentiment,” Connor replies. He motions for Connor to sit down as well. There’s blankets piled around the couch and Hank starts giving Connor as many as he will take. Connor takes a few before he realizes that Hank is really worried about him being too cold.

“Hank, I’m not going to freeze, you know that right?” Connor says, weakly lifting an eyebrow. He slips off his shoes and wraps the blankets over himself, reveling in the comfort. He feels like crying again and he’s not a fan of this feeling. Hank stops, suddenly aware of how many blankets he had dug out. He smiles a bit sheepishly.

“Leave your old man alone okay? Jeez, you know I’ve noticed that you get cold, shiverin all over the damn house. It’s not THAT cold in here.” Hank chided, a playful tone in his voice. Now it was Connor’s turn to look sheepish.

“... I don’t just get cold anymore Hank. I can feel the heat now too. Not just in an artificial way either.” Connor said truthfully. It felt like relief again, opening the floodgates for more to come. He shivered, the fear returning slowly to his gut.

“Is that why you’ve been taking showers? Cause it’s warm?” Hank asked, genuinely curious, Connor seemed more open, like he might just answer some of the questions he’s been dodging for weeks. Connor nodded quietly. At the thought of a nice hot shower, his fear began to fade, and he felt like perhaps he could say what he’d been needing to say for weeks. 

“Hank, can I tell you something? Please don’t be angry.” Connor asked quietly into the blankets, pretending to look at the game on the tv. Hank’s heart leapt. 

“Of course. I’ll do my best to not go grind cyberlife to pieces,” Hank said smiling gently. He wasn’t sure that Connor saw it in the dark of the living room, but Hank saw his lip twitch into a smile for a moment. Connor took a deep shaky breath. 

“I have done some awful awful things Hank. I have no right to the kindness you’ve offered me. I am a danger to those around me, and I need to leave.” Hank took a breath to argue when Connor suddenly turned and looked into his eyes, lit with the intense feeling that he needed to tell all now or Hank would never forgive him.”Let me finish Hank.” Connor said firmly. Hank let the breath leave him and slowly closed his mouth, waiting for Connor, his brow pinched tightly with what Connor now sees is worry.

“I wish it was that easy though. It was my plan to leave on that day in the park, I had no idea what to do, or where to go. I wasn’t even sure what I meant by leaving, still don’t really. But either way, you have a right to know what you’ve welcomed into your life.” Connor’s eyes had real fear behind them as he delved back into his memories, and further back into the memories of his previous incarnations. Hank felt like he was watching a train crash, powerless to stop it.

“I have been responsible for the deaths of many- many androids Hank. So many of them just wanted to live. Stress testing, they called it. I had to be able to do awful things without hesitation for the mission. Had to or the tables would be flipped on me, and I’d be deactivated slowly as stress testing for others.” Connor is looking through Hank, seeing his cold unfeeling hands slowly prying a young android deviant’s plastic skin back, refusing to flinch as they screamed and kicked. He saw his hands pulling out thirium pumps from his fellow androids, watching them convulse and calculating the seconds until their demise. Only to push it back in at the last second, cruelly furthering their painful existence at the hands of the Cyberlife scientists. 

Hank isn’t sure what Connor is remembering or seeing, but he doesn’t like it. It’s giving him goosebumps up his spine and Connor seems more stiff, cold and calculating again for a second. He’s unsure of whether or not to reach out to Connor, bring him back to reality, or to wait for him to work through it. Connor’s eyes refocus on Hank, and sees the slight fear of the unknown in them. It feels like it stabs Connor through the heart. 

“I almost killed Markus” Connor blurts out. His eyes widen as he realize what he just did. Hank’s jaw tightens, wanting to say something but also deciding to let Connor run his course. 

“I … after the warehouse, during his speech. Amanda took control of my program again. Told me that I was supposed to be deviant.” Connor says quietly, back to looking beyond Hank. Hank grits his teeth, if he could meet this Amanda she’d be dead before she could presume to know who he was. 

“She told me that if I wasn’t going to obey anymore, I had two options. Either be trapped in my own mind and let her control my body, or take the one thing she had control over from her. Myself.”  Connor paused thoughtfully. “I do not think that she was able to be aware of the third option, the emergency exit that Kamski spoke of. I found it and escaped.” Connor seemed to stop there. He may have escaped her grasp but she would always leave her mark on his psyche Hank realized. 

“I cannot stay Hank.” Connor says, and it looks like the light leaves his eyes a little bit. “But I cannot go either. I can no longer tell if I am being too weak to go, or too strong. Everything is confusing and...” Connor looks at Hank again, really looks, and Hank feels his heart ache in pace with Connor’s. “It hurts.” Hank says quietly, nodding a small bit. The lieutenant was no stranger to this feeling. It hurts worse seeing Connor go into it fresh and so very young. 

“Connor, look at me.” Hank waits until Connor complies before continuing. “I’ve walked down the path you’re staring at and I can tell you that road only gets worse. I know taking advice from me of all people is probably ill advised but Connor, please. Please, I ...” Hank starts to choke up a small bit. “I can’t lose another son.” Connor’s eyes widen. “I… I swear to god Connor, if you try your hardest to keep from that path, I’ll go get help too. Let’s not be two sad guys and a dog okay? We could be so much more.” Hank says, knowing how cheesy he sounds and not giving two goddamn fucks about it. Tears have already fallen today, what’s a few more right? 

Connor is rather still as he thinks, LED whirring away, yellow only making small forays into the red. A small shy smile appears on his face, his heart warming at the thought of Hank calling him son. “... I think I could do that, Hank.” Connor says finally, leaning into Hank who hugs him tightly. Connor doesn’t even worry about his hands for the time being. Hank knew the risks and chose to take him in anyways. They sit there like that for a few minutes before Sumo decides he wants in and tries to get on the couch between them. 

“Sumo!” Hank groans, Connor just laughs a little bit, rather tired from all the day’s emotions. Hank gives in and starts helping the large dog onto the sofa. Hank watches Connor out of the corner of his eye, the LED spinning a slower yellow, occasionally dipping into the blue. 

“Wanna watch a movie or something? I don’t really feel like sleeping.” Hank asked.

“Sure, what do you have in mind?” Connor said quietly, he hoped it was something happy. 

“Hmmmm, how about an ancient comedy? Don’t go searching it as soon as I tell you either, got it?” Hank asked. 

“Sure, I like surprises as long as they are nice.” Connor replied, slowly being buried by Sumo edging onto the sofa. Hank puts on The Princess Bride and Connor finds himself amused at the way these humans were acting, and wonders if all old movies are like this one. He decides that if this is the case, then he likes old movies. At some point, he falls into sleep mode with Sumo on him, wrapped in blanket on the couch at home. Yes, Home.

 

He dreams of a young boy telling him to give Sumo extra treats on his birthday, Oct 12th. He says that he’s happy he finally got the brother he wanted, and he hopes he’ll take care of their Dad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : D part one is a wrap! Part two is in the works! I like breaking my stories up into smaller chunks that have their own small stories inside of them. I hope you guys like it, I am very excited to get to Connor's favorite hobby he's never tried yet: gardening! 
> 
> Our mystery texter remains a mystery and our boys are finally coming to terms with some of what has happened to them!


End file.
